


Room 17

by AllonsyAlonso



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Partial Nudity, Stripper Kirk, Strippers & Strip Clubs, i loved research for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllonsyAlonso/pseuds/AllonsyAlonso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is a stripper in a strip club and Spock is a customer who wants a lap dance from him. Jim delivers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 17

**Author's Note:**

> Julia, happy birthday!!!!!  
> I hope you like this and I hope you have a wonderful day and remember I love you very much <3  
> I had fun writing this fic, loved researching lap dancing, pole dancing, stripping, men in crop tops, men in booty shorts...........

„Jim, you're up in fifteen minutes,“ Scotty tells him, poking his head through the backdoor, music pouring out from behind him.

Jim does a _yeah yeah I'm coming_ gesture in his direction as he drops a cigarette and stubs it with the toe of his shoe. Eventually, he returns to his dressing room, puts on whatever he grabs first since it’s Wednesday night and almost nothing special happens on Wednesday nights. They’re mostly filled with middle aged spouses from unhappy marriages who avoid going home by spending their time and money in strip clubs.

Jim’s not complaining. They’re the reason he can pay his rent.

Apparently putting on whatever reached his hands first was not a good idea because as soon as he steps out of his room, Scotty’s yelling directly into his ear “five minutes!” and Uhura is pushing him back to the room.

“Uhura, I have a –“

She starts taking his cropped top off.

“Um, okay, we can have a quickie if you like, though – “ he begins with a voice muffled by cloth being dragged over his head.

“I’m not here for sex,” she tells him matter-of-factly and even though he can’t see her, he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. “You put your top on backwards.”

“Maybe it was a part of my look,” Jim replies once the top is off his head. “You know, get on stage, start dancing and then do a little act like “oh, look, my top is on backwards” and then take it off and send everyone’s panties to the floor.”

Uhura stares at him, unimpressed. “You never do acts on Wednesdays.”

“Well, maybe I’ll start to!”

Uhura throws the top at his chest. “Get dressed _properly_ because it’s a full house tonight.” She turns on her heel and goes to leave the room.

Jim frowns, hastily putting the top over his head, scrambling after her. “Wait, what? I thought that fleet of Betazoids was coming _tomorrow_?”

Scotty, their manager, somehow (probably illegally) finds out when fleets are coming home for the weekend, when planet leaders and ambassadors are visiting (Chekov claims he once gave a lap dance to an ambassador of Gliese) and such. He tells them a few days in advance so they can prepare an act.

“Yes, that’s still happening,” Uhura explains, standing in the doorway. “But one of our fleets got called on an emergency mission which could last months so the cadets are saying goodbye.”

Jim grabs his chest in mock sadness and pretends to wipe a tear off of his cheek. “Let’s make their last night bittersweet.”

“Three minutes!” Scotty’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“Okay!” Jim yells back. He looks at Uhura and does a swirl. “So, do I look good enough for our cadets?”

“You should get a stylist,” Uhura tells him after giving him a once over.

“I had one for two nights years ago until Scotty reduced her to tears,” Jim says as he makes his way out of the room.  “She must have been bad mouthing us or something because no stylist dares to work here again.”

Uhura cringes as she follows him to behind the main stage. “I’d help more, but you’re annoying, so.”

Jim grabs his chest again. “Uhura, you say the _sweetest_ things,” he tells her and tries to throw an arm around her shoulders. She kicks him in the ribs.

“Okay, ow, I don’t need a bruise –“

“Two minutes!”

“ – before the show.”

“Good luck,” she wishes him before going back to her dressing room. Her show is soon too.

Next to the main stage is a DJ booth where their fellow announcer Sulu resides. Jim sneaks into his booth and flops down on a chair next to Sulu. Sulu waves his hand at him as he watches Bones dance on the main stage.

“Hey, Kirk,” he greets and pushes a few buttons on his console. The music changes – it’s ending. Jim’s turn is soon. “What’s up?”

“One minute!” Scotty shrieks from somewhere behind them.

“I’m up next,” Jim informs him, leaning over the console to check out the crowd. Sulu’s hand flies across one foot that separates them and stops him from accidentally leaning on several buttons. Jim grimaces. “Sorry, just lookin’ at our guests.”

“Lots of cadets, as much as I can tell,” Sulu comments and pushes one final button before relaxing in his chair. He looks over to Jim. “You have a special song I should play or?”

Jim sits up in his chair. “No, I was just going to tell you to play whatever, I’ll improvise.”

Sulu raises his eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he nods to the crowd outside, now throwing bills at Bones. “With that many cadets willing to spend a lot of money, don’t you want to impress them?”

Jim stands up and pats Sulu’s shoulder. “I’ll do just fine.”

Sulu shrugs in response and lowers his head to talk into the microphone. “This was Bones for your entertainment and pleasure. Next up, we have Prince Charming!”

Jim snorts at the name. He lost a bet to Bones a few weeks ago and now he has to suffer by having _Prince Charming_ as his stage name. For six months. Thankfully, his reputation has continued to strive forward.

“KIRK, GET YOUR ASS ON STAGE IN 30 SECONDS!”

Jim speeds up a little and almost crashes into sweaty Bones on his way onto the stage. He manages a slurred apology and receives a string of swear words in return before climbing onto the stage and getting on his hands and knees.

The stage goes from dark to light in a few seconds. Jim’s never liked stage lights on him, made him sweat way too fast, but it helped with pole dancing.

 The music begins. It’s something slow, but upbeat.

Kirk does a circular motion with his hips, following the rhythm. He slides his entire body to the floor and bucks his hips just a little before lifting them above his head.  His legs are in the air and he spreads them apart - full frontal display of his crotch in booty shorts.

The stage goes dark again. Jim lowers his legs to the floor and gets up, reaching for the pole a few feet from him.

 Once the stage is illuminated again, Jim struts around the pole, swaying his hips. He then grips it with one hand and slowly the other, sliding them down until he's bent in half.

He’s not sweating yet, but thankfully the pole is slippery from previous dancers. It’s both disgusting and helpful. He pushes those thoughts out of his mind. Instead, he makes eye contact with a random person from the audience and throws them a wink. He slowly gets back up, trailing the pole with his fingers.

He leaves one hand on the pole above his head and places the other on his hip. He swings his hips around, cards his fingers through his hair, spins around the pole with one foot on the ground and the other hanging midair.

He hears a few claps from the back, probably teenage newbies who managed to sneak in with fake IDs. Everybody knows you don’t make a sound during a performance. You sit back, watch and throw money.

He hip thrusts the air, traces his fingers up and down his thigh and then stops. He turns towards the audience, pushes his spine and ass against the pole and opens his thighs.  He leans down, his butt firmly placed on the pole and gets back up to throw both of his arms above his head on the pole.  He starts swinging his hips as he lowers himself once again. He stays in that position and begins to let his hands wander nearer to his crotch.

Being a natural tease, he gets in a standing pose, turns around so he's facing the pole which he grasps with one hand and hooks his leg around. This time he arches back, one lingering hand on his thigh. The shorts are digging into his skin. Good, Jim thinks, his butt looks great then.

Jim unhooks the leg and lowers it down, but keeps his grip on the pole. He drops his whole body on the ground in a fluid motion while holding the pole, his legs spreading open more and more as he reaches the floor. This time he decides to be kind to his audience so he downright squeezes his crotch and parts his lips, pretending to moan. He notices a couple of customers squirm in their seats. He lets himself smile at that and licks his lips while looking at one of them.

The music starts picking a pace.

He nudges his hips to the side, dips and pushes them back towards the pole. He repeats the action a couple of times just to keep the folks on edge.

Eventually he stands up, does a couple of spins around the pole and lands himself on his knees while doing so and bends over to wiggle his ass.  He throws a glance at the crowd while getting up and decides to take a stroll near the edge of the stage.

Jim sees a lot of bills tossed at the stage. In return, he treats them with softcore nipple play through his crop top and sucks on his finger. 

He can see he's riling them up when they all, more or less, collectively shift in their seats. He takes his top off in one swift move and twirls it around his finger before he lets the audience have it. The crowd goes wild for it and he turns on his heel, absolutely cherishing the feeling of excitement behind his back. He does a couple of tricks on the pole, makes eye contact with Sulu who nods, gesturing that he'll end the song soon.

He places himself on the middle of the stage and starts unbuttoning his shorts. A little bit of his pubic hair peeks out before he turns around, back to the audience, bows his head and the stage goes to dark. There's a moment of silence before an applause. Sulu informs the crowd that he'll be available for lap dances in a few minutes and announces their next performer.

Jim goes backstage, buttoning up his shorts. He sees Chekov running towards the stage in his usual twink outfit and almost runs into Scotty.

“Kirk, you’ve got a customer,” Scotty informs him, tapping something on a tablet. “Room 17.”

“A customer? But I just got off stage,” Jim says.

Scotty shrugs, not looking up from the device. “I guess you’re really wanted,”

Jim sighs and stretches his arms, groaning. He likes to take 15 minutes before a lap dance because a) he’s sweaty and b) it takes a while to peel tight clothes off of a sweaty body.

“Can it wait a little?”

“Nope,” Scotty replies. He finally tears his eyes off of the tablet only to shout:”Carol, you got five minutes!” over his shoulder.

“Are they a cadet? Does it really need to happen _right now_?”

Scotty looks at Jim. “Listen, Jim, just give them a fucking lap dance like every night, what’s the problem?”

Jim sighs, again, and leaves for the rooms.

Room 17 is near the end of a long hallway of rooms and Jim flails his arms up and down as much as possible, trying not to stink too much. He enters the room after a lengthy walk.

Inside the room are a minibar and a chair in the middle of the room. In the room, a person is seated. It’s dark, Jim can’t see their exact facial features, but he recognizes those ears.

Vulcan.

He almost steps back and pretends he forgot about the lap dance.

Don’t get him wrong, he _loves_ dancing of all kinds, lives for it, but dancing for a Vulcan? That’s a pain in the ass he doesn’t like to experience (and he’s, like, really kinky). Vulcans aren’t frequent at the club, they show up once in a blue moon and Jim’s been fortunate enough to mostly avoid encounters with them.

Until now.

Jim realizes he’s been hovering in the doorway far too long so he clicks on the light switch next to the entrance and the room slowly lights up, confirming his worst fears. A Vulcan, sat stiffly in the chair, dressed in a uniform. A cadet?

The fact the guy is kinda hot is irrelevant, thank you very much.

He throws on his charming smile. “Welcome,” he purrs and crouches down to grab something from the minibar. He looks over his shoulder, lips parted. “You want something?”

“No, thank you,” he responds and, well, fuck. His voice is hot too. Jim looks away before he starts ogling the guy or something. Keep it professional, he tells himself as he takes a bottle of scotch from the bar and stands up, facing the guy.

He unscrews the cap, throws it god knows where and takes a swing. He lets a few droplets trickle down his jaw, neck, naked torso…

There’s an additional button next to the light switch and Jim pushes it, prompting music to start. Jim puts away the bottle and slowly makes his way to the Vulcan. The Vulcan follows his every move, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Jim circles the chair, sways his hips back and forth while letting his fingers trail the outline of his cheekbones, lips, neck, chest. Once Jim is behind him, he bends over to let his hot breath trickle the guy’s ear.

“Any special wishes?”

There’s a slightest shift in his shoulders, but Jim dismisses it as nothing. Lap dances with Vulcans are known to last for hours given their lack of emotions. It’ll be at least an hour before the guy even stops looking utterly bored. And Jim’s job is to just rile them up. Sigh.

“No, I just wish a regular contact dance, thank you,” the guy answers, staring straight ahead. Jim distances himself from the guy’s head and nods even though he can’t see it.

“Whatever you say, baby,” whispers and in one abrupt movement lands himself in front of the Vulcan’s knees.

“I understand _baby_ is a term of endearment, but I wish not to be called that,” the guy says and meets Jim’s eyes. They’re really nice eyes. Jim thinks he’s never seen a Vulcan with pretty eyes like that.

“Of course,” Jim tells him and puts his hands on the guy’s thighs. “May I know your name?”

The Vulcan stares at him for a few moments, obviously contemplating before he says:”Spock.”

“Spock,” Jim repeats, tasting it on his tongue. He leans forward; face inches from Spock’s crotch. “Wanna have fun, Spock?”

Spock nods insensitively. Jim grins. “Good,” he says.

Jim spreads Spock’s thighs apart and squeezes them for a brief moment. He lets go of them and gets back on his feet. He decides to focus on music for a minute, make the Vulcan before him _want_ him.

Jim sways his hips again, swirls around so his back is turned to Spock. He adds a little dip by bending his knees, puts his hands on his back and smoothly moves them down towards his ass. Jim can feel Spock’s eyes on him and he takes it as an encouragement to go further. Jim turns around, immediately locks eyes with Spock and takes a few steps forward. He positions his legs on either side of Spock’s knees and lowers his hips just above his crotch, barely touching.

It’s tense for a few moments because Spock’s looking up at him with an unreadable expression and Jim isn’t fond of not knowing how to decipher a client’s reaction. Jim puts his hands on Spock’s shoulder, feels them move with each heavy inhale and exhale. Jim smirks; heavy breathing is always a good sign.

Unless you’re having a heart attack, then no.

Jim begins moving his hips in circles while sliding his hands up Spock’s neck, feeling the little hairs on his neck rise. Jim tries to hide a smile by throwing his head back, pretending he’s enjoying the music. He’s either gotten really good at seducing Vulcans (in your face, Uhura) or he’s hallucinating.

Those booty shorts can really dig into his skin sometimes, who knows if his circulation got cut off and now this is the result.

He stops with hip movements and sinks into Spock’s lap. Jim bucks his hips forward, rubbing Spock’s crotch before completely withdrawing all contact by standing up and opting to dancing around his again. Jim swears he hears Spock hum when Jim lifts his ass off of his lap.

A few circles around the chair conclude in Spock’s rumpled uniform, disheveled hair and beads of sweat on his forehead. No words from him though. Jim wants to whoop – this breaks every record in the club.

Jim, feeling generous, sets a pose in front of Spock, ass facing him. He stands straight; hands on his hips, knowing full well his ass looks _amazing_. Jim throws a glance over his shoulder to Spock whose mouth is hanging slightly open.

Jim loves his job.

Jim starts walking backwards and drops down on Spock’s lap, leans into his chest, head resting on Spock’s shoulder. He feels Spock shift under his weight and then his hands tentatively reach Jim’s thighs. Jim removes his head from Spock’s shoulder and hoists himself just a few inches from Spock’s crotch. Spock’s hands cling to his thighs a little more desperately. Jim does a pelvic tilt by thrusting his hips back and forward, brushing Spock’s groin. Spock’s pants have gotten tighter since the beginning of their meeting. Jim thrusts his hips extra hard to celebrate that fact and gets a breathless yelp from Spock in return.

Finally, Jim switches places and straddles Spock’s lap, grinding against it. Spock’s hands travel up and down his sides, but never go over his ass. Jim takes a hold of Spock’s hands and guides them to his ass cheeks and firmly places them there. Spock furrows his eyebrow, his hands lingering for a few moments before he squeezes them. Jim grins.

“Good boy,” Jim whispers and bounces in Spock’s lap as a reward.

Spock’s cheeks have turned greener and his pupils have dilated. Success, Jim thinks.

Jim trails his fingers up Spock’s neck until they reach his jaw. He tips it up, caresses his thumb down Spock’s bottom lip. “You having fun?”

Spock nods and slips his hands forward to Jim’s hips and closer to Jim’s crotch. Jim clicks his tongue.

“I’m afraid my job is done here,” he purrs in Spock’s ear and slowly rises to his feet, momentarily missing Spock’s body heat. Spock’s hands remain on Jim’s hips.

“That is most unfortunate,” Spock says and does something that could be read as lip biting, but you know, in a Vulcan way. Spock looks up. “Are you available for the rest of the evening?”

Jim widens his eyes. “Rest of – are you saying you want me to dance all night?”

“Yes, if it is probable,” Spock replies. Jim stays silent for a few moments. “If such a task is no match for you incompetency – “

Jim puts a hand over Spock’s mouth and signals him to stay silent. He’s given seconds and thirds to people – he knows he’s good at dancing. But an entire night? That would beat Bones’ record who once gave an Andorian _eight_ lap dances in a row.

Jim withdraws his hand to scratch his head.

Spock must have caught on Jim’s uncertainty because he drops his hands off of Jim’s hips and starts neatening his attire. “If you are not available, both comfort wise and/or time wise, I – “

Jim shakes his head and lays his palm across Spock’s mouth again. “Let’s do it.”

Spock’s a handsome Vulcan, more tactile and responsive than most Vulcans Jim’s come across. Besides, if Spock’s truly a cadet, why not give him a night to remember?

Spock smiles. Jim smiles back. He’s never seen a Vulcan smile.

He’s not sure if it’s the fact it’s his first time seeing a Vulcan smile or something else entirely, but something inside of Jim shifts and he’s pretty confident it’s not _just_ lust

**Author's Note:**

> I know Spock is half-human, half-vulcan, but Jim doesn't know that.  
> There might be chapter two???? Who knows, I don't.  
> Anyhow, thank you for reading and have a nice day!


End file.
